


Finals

by Birdbitch



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-21
Updated: 2013-09-21
Packaged: 2018-01-17 18:05:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1397437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Birdbitch/pseuds/Birdbitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Combeferre shows up at Marius’s dorm room haggard and exhausted from the stress of finals.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finals

Marius barely recognizes Combeferre when he sees him—he has a significant amount of facial hair and dark eyes and hair that’s had fingers run through it too many times. His clothes are disheveled not from activity but the fact that he’s slept in them, with the top buttons of his shirt undone and the crease of his pants long gone. His left shoe is untied and he has an imprint on his cheek from the pages of a book.

It’s finals week and while Marius supposes it could get the best of anyone, he hardly would have expected it to claim Combeferre of all people as its victim.

It seems that Combeferre does not recognize Marius, either, when he comes to his side, until he rubs his eyes from under his glasses and shakes his head about a little. “Sorry,” he says, voice rough, “Finals. You know how it is.”

Well, no, Marius clearly does not know how it is, but even still he nods. “Do you want to get some coffee?” Combeferre brings his wrist up as if to look at his watch, but it’s not there and it takes a moment before he remembers that he’s looking at skin and arm hair and nothing else.

“I think I need a little more than coffee,” he says, and Marius nods.

“You look like hell.”

“I feel like hell.”

They stand like this for a while, Combeferre standing in the hallway and Marius in his doorway, before Marius shakes his head and pulls him into the room. “Courfeyrac is at a final right now,” he says, and Combeferre nods like he understands, like it’s not information that’s passing over his head entirely. “I’m going to make coffee.”

“Do you have creamer?”

“Non-dairy.” Combeferre nods again and Marius turns away and busies himself with the Keurig that Courfeyrac brought into the dorm t the beginning of the last semester. He’s not in the mood for coffee, but he fills a mug for Combeferre and waits before bringing it over—in all likelihood, Combeferre would drink it right away and not realize that he was burning himself. Instead, he sits down next to Combeferre and stares at him until Combeferre finally comes out of a daze and stares back.

“Yes, Marius?”

“When was the last time you slept?”

Combeferre blinks a few times. “I took a nap in the library when working on a paper,” he says, and Marius shakes his head.

“I meant really slept.”

“I can’t sleep until I get all of the work done.” He closes his eyes. “I’m almost done. I waited too long to get started and now I’m paying the price.”

Marius shrugs and shakes his head. “If you don’t sleep, how is your work supposed to be any good?” The coffee is probably cool enough now, but Marius doesn’t go up and get it and instead presses Combeferre into a lying position. Combeferre, with limbs like putty, accepts the change in position.

“You might have a point.” He rubs at his face again and moves to take his glasses off (Marius, being helpful and having learned the actions properly from Courfeyrac, lifts them from Combeferre’s hand and leans over to put them on his desk). “I don’t value your advice as often as I should.” Combeferre’s eyes begin to close, but he forces them open so he can stare at Marius. “What finals do you have left?”

“German. Italian. Linguistics. Nothing too heavy. I’m getting enough sleep.” He lays down beside and Combeferre and Combeferre shakes his head.

“I still have a paper to finish. I can’t sleep.”

“When’s it due?”

Combeferre wears a sheepish expression. “I may have two days left to do it.”

“You could probably sleep. I promise my bed’s more comfortable than wherever you fell asleep at the library.”

“In that case,” Combeferre says, yawning and looking at himself, “I should take these clothes off. They’re wrinkled enough.”

Marius nods. “Courfeyrac would be disappointed by the state of your apparel.” He smiles, and Combeferre is aware of what he’s doing, but he smiles back and sits up so he can pull the offending garments away. Marius takes them, folds them and puts them on the chair in front of his desk. “Do you want the coffee?” he asks, and Combeferre shakes his head ‘no’.

“It’s fine. Come here.” Marius smiles and hastily pulls his own clothes off before climbing into bed beside Combeferre. “How long did you say before Courfeyrac is done with his final?”

“I’m not sure. It’s a presentation. It might take until past the time it’s supposed to.”

It doesn’t matter much; either way, Combeferre is too tired—too exhausted—to do much more than press a few lazy kisses against Marius’s cheeks and forehead before he’s passed out. Marius follows suit, presses against Combeferre and strokes the scruffy sides of his face before he too falls asleep.


End file.
